Samantha put one hand over her heart.
“You guys, I’m emotional.”
She wasn’t.
She loved attention too much to be emotional about it.
She thanked everyone for coming, made a joke about turning twenty-seven, then looked directly at me.
“And thank you to my little sister for allowing me one night this month.”
Several people laughed.
Something in my stomach tightened.
Jenny looked at me from across the table.
I gave her the smallest shake of my head.
Don’t.
Please don’t make this bigger.
Everyone sang.
Samantha blew out the candles.
People cheered.
Then her friend Trevor handed her a knife.
She cut the first slice badly, laughing as the frosting collapsed against the plate.
Someone dipped a finger into the icing.
Samantha slapped his hand away.
Then she looked at me.
I saw the idea enter her face.
It happened that fast.
Her eyes dropped toward the frosting.
Then back to me.
She scooped a thick streak of pink icing onto two fingers.
“Hannah.”
I stepped backward immediately.
“No.”
People laughed.
Samantha grinned.
“Come here.”
“No.”
“Oh my God, relax.”
“I’m serious.”
She moved around the edge of the table.
I raised one hand between us.
“No. Seriously, don’t.”
My voice was clear.
I remember that because later I heard it on video.
There was no laughter in it.
No teasing.
No uncertainty.
Samantha stopped less than two feet away.
For one second, I thought she had understood.
Her smile softened.
“Fine.”
I lowered my hand.
Then she turned toward the table, grabbed the entire cake with both hands, spun back around, and shoved it straight into my face.
The impact snapped my head backward.
Buttercream filled my mouth and nose.
Something scraped across my cheek.
I heard screaming.
Then laughter.
So much laughter.
I staggered backward and crashed into the corner of a chair.
My hands flew to my face.
I couldn’t see.
Frosting coated my eyelashes.
It was inside my nostrils.
My mouth tasted like sugar and food coloring.
Somebody yelled, “Oh my God!”
Another person shouted, “Samantha!”
But my sister’s laugh rose above everyone else’s.
Loud.
Breathless.
Delighted.
“Look at her!”
I wiped desperately at my eyes.
“Samantha—”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
That line.
I heard it through the ringing in my ears.
The room hesitated.
Only for a moment.
People looked between us.
They weren’t sure whether they were still supposed to laugh.
Then Samantha laughed again.
A few others joined her.
Because Samantha was laughing.
And if Samantha was laughing, it had to be funny.
Right?
My vision cleared enough for me to see her holding what remained of the destroyed cake.
Frosting covered her hands.
She looked pleased with herself.
Someone’s phone was pointed directly at us.
I knew I was one second away from crying.
So I did the only thing I had spent years teaching myself to do around my sister.
I walked away.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t insult her.
I didn’t throw anything back.
I turned, went into the bathroom, and locked the door.
My hands shook as I leaned over the sink.
My reflection looked ridiculous.
Pink frosting covered my hair, eyebrows, cheeks, dress, and neck.
There was icing inside one ear.
A red mark had begun to appear along my cheekbone.
I stared at myself.
Then I heard laughter outside.
Not everyone.
But enough.
My throat closed.
I grabbed a towel and started cleaning my face.
A knock came.
“Hannah?”
Jenny.
I unlocked the door.
Her expression changed immediately.
“Oh, Hannah.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not going to say anything.”
“I just want to clean up.”
She stepped inside and locked the door again.
“You told her not to.”
“I know.”
“Everyone heard you.”
“I know.”
Jenny took the towel from me and ran it under cool water.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“I don’t want everyone saying I ruined her birthday.”
Jenny stared at me.
“She shoved a cake into your face.”
I looked down.
“I know.”
That was when I noticed my breathing.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
I took a deeper breath.
It didn’t feel deep enough.
Jenny noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Hannah.”
“I’m fine.”
I hated the words the moment they left my mouth.
She touched my arm.
“Sit down.”
“I just need air.”
The bathroom suddenly felt too small.
Too hot.
I stepped into the hallway.
The party had already restarted.
Music was playing again.
Someone had moved the ruined cake.
Samantha was standing near the kitchen with a drink.
She saw me.
Instead of coming over, she called across the room, “See? She’s alive.”
A few people laughed nervously.
I looked away.
The floor shifted beneath me.
I grabbed the wall.
Jenny caught my elbow.
“Hannah?”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
My stomach rolled.
I tasted frosting again.
My chest tightened harder.
